


Everytime we touch I get this feeling

by rydia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Tension, mild sexual themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: The first time it happens is one week and two days after Byleth’s return.Itbeing some explicit hand touching, which leaves Claude a little flustered.(A birthday gift for Maddy <3)
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 25
Kudos: 161





	Everytime we touch I get this feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maddy02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddy02/gifts).



The first time it happens is one week and two days after Byleth’s return. 

The last nine days have been extremely hectic for everyone. But Garreg Mach is quickly being put back into a liveable state, the Knights of Serios have returned, and Claude’s plans – his long held plans – are finally beginning to come to fruition. There is a grim determination among everyone as they work and plan, but among it there is still growing optimism, despite the threat of the Empire and the battles everyone knows is ahead, and it pleases Claude to see it.

It’s all because of Byleth, of course, even if she doesn’t realise it herself. She’s all mostly _grim determination_ herself as she works hard to get up to speed on what she’s missed in the last five years. There’s a lingering sadness about her because of that – and it shows just how much she’s changed since she’d first come to the monastery, blue haired and blank faced, because everyone notices, a few of them mentioning it to Claude, while others try to cheer her up directly.

But with that there’s also a good side, because she smiles more, her happiness shining through when her former students make the effort to support her. 

And it’s over one of those smiles that it happens, nine days into her return.

She’s standing by Claude’s side in the Cardinal’s Room, as he pours over a large map of the Alliance as he gives her and the others in the room an update on their troops and their current positions.

With them is Hilda, who isn’t even bothering to stifle her yawns, and Claude can’t really blame her. It’s been a long day and the sun is now setting, casting a warm glow into the room before it disappears completely for the night. By her side is Lorenz, more valiantly paying attention, while Seteth sits across the room, listening intently and making notes.

As soon as Claude finishes speaking, Lorenz starts talking, making Hilda slump down even further in her chair. Claude rests both his hands on the table and leans forward. His gloves have long since come off, his cravat loosened. He could sit back down, of course, but he’s tired and it’s too easy to get comfortable and sleepy sitting down.

By his side, he feels Byleth move, and suddenly there’s a hand on his, squeezing gently. Claude blinks and drops his gaze to where Byleth’s hand – how had he never noticed that her hands, while so strong, are so small? – is curled around his. Warmth seeps into him, and an awareness he’s never felt before as her fingers softly brush across the back of his hand.

His heart beats faster, and when he finally drags himself away from the sight of her hand around his, he raises his eyes to Byleth’s smiling face, framed by the orange glow of sunset, and it’s just as well that Lorenz is pontificating on because Claude finds himself completely tongue-tied.

***

He dwells on that moment for days afterwards, trying to figure out why a simple touch and a smile had such a profound effect on him.

The truth is, he can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t _stop thinking_ about how much he’d wanted to turn his hand around and curl his fingers around hers, and how bereft he’d felt when Byleth had taken her hand away.

What’s more, he can’t help but wonder if she’ll do it again.

It makes no sense, really.

It’s not like he’s never experienced a gentle touch like that before – his life has not been as cruel as that. But Byleth’s touch seems so very different to anything he’s experienced before. It’s not like the way his mother would kiss his forehead each night before he went to bed. She’d done it right until he’d left for Fódlan. It’s not like the way his father would ruffle his hair or squeeze his shoulder affectionately.

But then, it’s not like Claude has experienced that in the last six years. His family, and all their faults and virtues, are across the mountains and far away, and with the exception of Nader, there’s no one that Claude could trust enough to be close to him like that.

At least, not until recently.

_No_ , he reconsiders. Perhaps not recently. He’s trusted Teach for years, it’s just that she hasn’t been here. His trust for the rest of the Golden Deer had followed and deepened throughout the last five years.

But he’s never held hands with any of them, or touched them beyond what’s to be expected when you train and fight together.

Deep in thought, Claude drums his fingers along his desk, completely ignoring the letter in front of him that's waiting for a reply.

He considers his Deer.

If he were to ask one of them to hold his hand… would that be a ridiculous request?

Lorenz is right out. They’ve become friends now, and Claude likes him rather a lot, but asking, “Lorenz, can I hold your hand to see if it gives me weird feelings like when Teach does it?” – the mere idea of it… no.

Lysithea is also someone he immediately disregards because she’d think it was some kind of prank. Or a waste of time. She’d give him that look that can level an enemy just as much as her magic can, and exclaim something like, “I don’t have time for your silliness, ask someone else!”

There’s Hilda, of course. She’s the Deer he’s closest to. But she’s discounted as quickly as Lorenz and Lysithea, because she’d ask too many questions. She’d look at him with a glint in her eyes and ask in faux-innocence, “Does this have something to do with the Professor?” and she’d know the answer even before she asked.

Leonie…perhaps. She’s the most like Teach in some ways, has that whole Lady Mercenary thing going on that Claude can admire. But, like Hilda, she’d ask questions. She _can_ be bribed to keep quiet, at least.

Ignatz would do it. He’d be perplexed, but he’d do it. However, Claude still has that image of Byleth with a soft smile on her face, backlit by a brilliant orange sky stuck in his head and he’s trying to figure out the best way to ask Ignatz if he can paint that. Maybe it’s best to stick to one awkward request at a time.

Raphael would _also_ do it, no questions asked. He’d even lift Claude up into a hug quite happily – he’s seen him do it with the others. When a pouting Hilda approaches him and says, “Raphael, I’m sad, pick me up,” and Raphael always obliges, gentle but strong, lifting her up with her feet dangling in the air until she smiles and he asks, “Better now?”

It’s so weirdly sweet.

In the end, though, the answer is obvious, and Claude sets out immediately to find Marianne. At this time of the day, he knows she’ll be in the stables.

***

“Oh, hello, Claude.” Marianne glances over from where she’s grooming Dorte and smiles at him. “I didn’t think you were on stable duty this week.”

“I’m not.” Now that he’s here, Claude’s second guessing himself, not wanting to inadvertently make Marianne feel uncomfortable.

She looks at him for a beat before her expression shifts into concern. “Is everything alright, Claude?”

“Of course. Everything’s fine.”

She frowns. “You just look… agitated.”

Running a hand through his hair, Claude sighs. “I’m fine. Truly. I just have an odd request of you and I’m not sure how to phrase it.”

Marianne, to her credit, takes him seriously, putting down the brush and moving away from the horse. She steps closer to Claude and earnestly says, “Please, Claude, if I can help you in any way–“

“Hold my hand?” The way he blurts it out – it’s not his finest moment, to be sure.

Marianne stops and blinks, eyes widening. “Hold your… hand?”

Sheepishly, he smiles. “I’m just testing something.”

“Not a poison, I hope,” Marianne responds with a quiet archness that makes him laugh.

“No, no! I would never do that to you, Marianne.” He pauses. “Lorenz, maybe.”

“Claude.” There’s admonishment in her voice, but she has a small smile on her face. She scrutinises him for a moment longer before she pulls the glove off her right hand and holds it out between them. “Well, in that case.”

Grateful she’s not asking more questions, Claude removes his own glove and hesitantly takes Marianne’s hand in his.

In silence they stand here, gingerly holding hands and looking at each other.

It’s rather awkward.

“Were you expecting something?” Marianne asks politely.

“Ah. Well. It’s just–“ Claude frowns down at their hands. This feels nothing like how it had when Teach had touched him. Marianne’s hand is warm. Softer than Teach’s. Maybe about the same size. Nice enough, sure. But not–

Not what he wants.

He raises his eyes. Marianne looks concerned, and with a frustrated sigh, Claude drops her hand.

“Claude? You’re worrying me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing, really.” He pauses. That’s a lie. “It’s just that someone touched my hand recently in a way that left me–“ He stops again, searching for the right words.

But Marianne’s expression has shifted. She smiles. “Breathless? Excited? Happy? Like you never wanted them to stop touching you?”

He lets out a noisy exhale. “Yes.”

Her smile widens, but her expression remains soft. And understanding, Claude realises. “And you’ve never felt that before?” she asks.

Mutely, Claude shakes his head.

“And you expected to feel that again with me?”

“Ah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I considered trying this with all the Golden Deer. But you seemed like the best choice.”

Marianne laughs. “I’m flattered, but you’re really going about this all wrong. It’s that particular person that makes you feel like that, not just the touch by itself.”

He shrugs. “I thought that might be it, but it’s best to test to be sure.”

She’s unconvinced by his attempt at nonchalance. “It’s okay to feel these things, Claude.”

“Even when we’re at war?”

“Perhaps especially,” Marianne replies, voice so soft it’s almost lost to him. “It– It’s hard to allow yourself to be happy sometimes, isn’t it? But I think we have to try.”

For a long moment he stares at her, and for the first time it hits him just how far she’s come since their student days. “Thank you, Marianne,” he says, as sincere as he’s ever been. “I’m glad you’re with us, and that you’re my friend.”

She blushes lightly at that. “Oh, any of us would have done this for you, Claude. But you should tell the Professor how you feel.” She ignores his splutter. “I’m sure she feels the same.”

“I never mentioned Teach.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Claude raises his eyes to the roof of the stables. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Hilda.”

Marianne laughs. “Oh, I don’t think so. It’s the obvious conclusion. Anyone can see how you both look at each other.”

And once again he thinks of Byleth, illuminated by sunset, smiling at him.

***

The next time Byleth touches him is a full month after her return, except this time, she’s angry.

They’ve successfully defended Garreg Mach from an Empire attack. Claude’s plan – even if it’s set back their rebuilding efforts a little – succeeded, and the fire had pushed the invaders back, where the combined army of the Alliance and the Church had slaughtered them.

It had been a good win. A successful test of their strength.

Claude had received some injuries – minor enough, but a healer had been needed. When Byleth storms over to them, face like thunder, the healer makes himself scarce, and Claude, not sure what she’s so angry about, smiles at her, hoping it’ll lighten her expression.

“What’s with that look, my friend?”

Byleth shakes her head tightly. “Don’t call me that.”

His smile falls. “Wh–“

“Don’t call me your friend and tell me you trust me and prop me up as some figurehead of this army and then not _tell me your plans_.”

Claude watches as the angry expression in her face slips off, into something… something more hurt. Her gaze drops from his face.

His heart lurches.

“Teach. I’m sor–“

“Are you hurt?” Byleth asks, interrupting him.

“I’m–“

The words stick in his throat because Byleth reaches out to touch his arm. His sleeve has been pulled up – what remains of it anyway, because an enemy mage had burnt away most of it, leaving him with a nasty burn that’s now been healed, the skin shiny and pink.

Byleth’s fingers briefly circle his wrist – can she feel how hard his pulse his hammering? – before carefully touching the healed skin on his arm. Claude can feel the callouses on her fingers, knows well the strength she holds, and yet she touches him so delicately–

He swallows, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I’m fine.”

Her eyes snap back to his, and her hand retreats just as quickly .

All Claude wants is to reach out and take her hand in his, but something holds him back. Perhaps it’s the shuttered expression on her face. Instead, he leans forward, closer to her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he tells her honestly. ”I– I don’t know why I didn’t.” It hadn’t occurred to him. He’d just figured that Byleth would go along with his plans – and she _had_. She’d trusted him.

Claude takes a deep breath. “I think I’m so used to keeping my plans to myself. You’re right. I should have told you.”

She nods. “You should have. We’re… we’re in this together. Partners.”

_Partners_. The word feels heavy, but not in a bad way.

“You’re right,” he repeats, and leans in even closer, smiling ruefully at her. Byleth swallows, looking at him with wide eyes. “How can I make it up to you?”

She lets out a shaky exhale, so close that Claude can feel her breath across his cheek.

He wants to close the small distance that remains between them.

“Just don’t do it again,” Byleth says, an uncharacteristic shake in her voice. She backs away, crossing her arms and tucking her hands tight against her.

Claude can’t ask her to come closer again, can’t touch her, but there’s something else he can do. He can show her that they’re partners. Equals. Friends.

“I promise.”

***

It’s over another month before she touches him again – at least like that, bare skin to skin. They train together sometimes, and work closely side by side. But it’s not like her other touches, those two times that Claude dwells on far too much, when her hands are bare and touching him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

He wonders sometimes about touching her. When they’re working late – if he removes his gloves and reaches out and takes her hand, touches her face…

He doesn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

Instead, he shows Byleth that he’s keeping his promise, and the hurt fades from her eyes and her smiles reappear.

It happens after Ailell, that hellish place, after Judith has joined them and they’re back at Garreg Mach and things seem to be going _right._

Claude’s walking back to the dorms with Byleth after a late dinner. It’s raining, and they stand close to the door of her room, under the eaves so that they’re sheltered.

“We’re getting an early night, for once,” he says.

Byleth hums in agreement. “I hope you actually get some sleep, and don’t stay up late working. You need the rest.”

Claude’s just about to respond to her concern with a too flippant answer when Byleth reaches up and tucks that errant piece of hair that’s always escaping back behind his ear, and the words die in his throat. Her fingers skim the shell of his ear before smoothing down across his jaw, brushing the hairs of his beard.

He can’t speak, but a rather embarrassing noise does escape his throat. It’s not a moan exactly. Or a groan. It’s just a garbled _something_.

Byleth snatches her hand back and steps away from him, and Claude feels the loss.

“Sorry,” she mutters, eyes darting away.

Despite still trying to figure out exactly what it is he’s feeling whenever this happens, Claude knows damn well he doesn’t want her to stop. So, instead, he reaches out this time, and takes her hand in his, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves.

“Nothing to apologise for, my friend,” he says softly.

Byleth’s eyes swing back to his, searching his face. Some of the tension leaves her. “Oh. Good.” She falls silent, and Claude waits, sensing there’s something more she wants to say. “It’s just that… sometimes it doesn’t seem real.”

“What doesn’t?”

“How much you’ve all changed. You’re so–“ Her gaze briefly dips down, over his body ”–grown up.”

There’s something she’s not saying.

And Claude swears he can feel the drag of her eyes over him and he’d give anything to have her hands follow the path they're taking.

His grip on her hand tightens, and he hears her breath hitch. “Teach.” He hardly recognises his own voice, deep with want. “ _Byleth_.”

Their eyes meet again and he sees Byleth swallow as she leans towards him, like she’s being pulled forward by an invisible string. Above them, the rain is pattering on the roof of the dorms, but it’s almost drowned out by the rushing in Claude’s ears as he leans forward too–

Until Byleth suddenly pulls back, her hand leaving his. She looks uncharacteristically flustered as she pushes the door to her room open.

One of her hands press against her blushing cheek as she turns back to him slightly.

“Goodnight, Claude.” Her voice is hoarse.

She steps inside and the door shuts quietly.

Claude takes a deep breath and steps back to lean against a pillar as he processes what just happened.

***

Later that night, as he touches himself, his mind is full of the way she’d looked – hair curling from the rain, mouth slightly parted as she’d leaned into him. And in his mind, she didn’t pull back, and she’d kissed him and touched him the way he so desperately wants her to.

When he’s spent himself, groaning into his pillow, he thinks again about how Byleth had looked at him, and he smiles to himself. That hadn’t been a fantasy, that had been real.

At the very least it would appear that his feelings aren’t completely one-sided. He hopes so, anyway.

That thought makes it a little easier for him to drag himself out of the bed and clean himself up.

***

They don’t speak about what happened – or what almost happened, or what could have happened. But if Claude stands a little closer to Byleth than before, and if she reaches out to place a hand on his arm more than usual, well, neither of them are complaining about it.

It’s not awkward, like Claude feared it might be, instead it’s… _anticipatory_.

They’ve always worked well together, but it’s something different now. It’s enough to make Hilda exclaim after a battle, “Wow, you and the Professor are really in sync!”

Lorenz nods in agreement. “They do make a good team, I must admit.”

Marianne directs a knowing smile at Claude that he can’t help but return, before he turns back to Byleth who is also watching him. She’s smiling too, pleased and proud.

“Claude makes it easy,” she tells the others, her gaze never leaving his face.

***

They retake the Bridge of Myrddin, a difficult and draining battle, but a victory nonetheless. After that, Claude makes his way back to Derdriu to attend the Roundtable, accompanied by Byleth. There, he watches her hold her own against the pool of sharks that is the Roundtable and finally admits to himself what he’s been shying away from for years – that he is completely in love with her.

Later, at a feast with the other nobles, Byleth nudges him.

“You’ve been quiet ever since the Roundtable.”

He stays quiet a moment longer, debating how honest to be. “I’ve been thinking.”

“You’re always thinking,” she says with a smile. “This is different.”

“Right as always, my friend.” He takes a sip of wine. “It’s just not something I wish to speak about in present company.”

Her eyebrows raise. “I hope you mean these nobles and not me.”

That makes him laugh. “Of course. I feel like I could tell you anything.”

That pleased smile graces her face, that tiny blush that tells him his words effect her. Her hands and arms are completely bare in the dress Hilda had put her in, and it would be so easy for him to reach out and touch her. Place his hands on hers like she had a couple of months ago. Instead, he has to fist his hands against his thighs under the table.

_Not here_ , he tells himself. Not when so many people are watching them. He won’t let Byleth and their relationship become gossip.

Instead, he waits until everyone is retiring to bed and he walks Byleth back to her room.

It’s completely unnecessary, of course, but it’s become habit for them to do this back at Garreg Mach. To walk slowly from the Cardinal’s Room to the dormitories, winding down after a busy day.

They may be in different surroundings, but Claude wants to keep that routine here, to selfishly get as much time alone with her as he can.

“You did well today,” Claude says as they reach her door. “I told you that you had no reason to be nervous.”

“I thought a lot about how my father used to handle some of the people who hired us.”

“Gruffly polite with a serrated edge of _I know ten different ways to kill you in less than five seconds_?”

The smile she gives him is one of the widest he’s ever seen from her. “Something like that.”

Her hand rests on the handle to her bedroom, but she doesn’t go in. Instead, she keeps her gaze on Claude, sure and steady. “This is probably the fanciest room I’ve ever stayed in. Actually, it’s three rooms. I have a whole room that I think is just for having tea in.” She hesitates, briefly. “Do you want some tea?”

This feels quite different to every time she’s ever invited him to tea before. Maybe it’s the late hour. Maybe it’s the wine he’s had. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re both in formal clothes and, right now, all their responsibilities seem very far away.

“I’d love some,” Claude replies in a low voice.

Her eyes seem to darken as she nods and enters the room, leaving the door open for Claude to follow.

He immediately does, closing it behind him quietly and leaning against it, watching Byleth as she stands with her back to him a few feet away. There are no candles lit in the room, with the only light coming from the moon shining in the windows.

She takes in a deep breath and, still not looking at him, says, “I don’t want tea.”

Claude’s pulse thrums at her words, and the husky tone of her voice. With effort, he keeps his own voice steady. “We don’t need to have tea, my friend. We can do whatever you want.”

Byleth turns to him, backlit by moonlight, looking at him with an expression that makes him swear to himself that he’ll do everything he can to win his dream and to win her, if she’ll have him.

“I’m not sure you’ll still be saying that if you knew what I wanted,” Byleth murmurs.

Raising his head higher, Claude meets her eyes. “Try me.”

She steps closer, pinning him to the door with her gaze. “I want to touch you. I’ve wanted to touch you since I woke up…” Trailing off, Byleth seems to falter slightly, and Claude doesn’t want that.

“So touch me,” he tells her, challengingly, and her eyes flash as she steps closer, until she reaches out and brushes her fingers against his cravat.

“Claude… I’ve never…” _Never done this before, never felt like this before_ – he knows both of those things about her. It’s not like he’s any different.

“Neither have I.” He quickly tugs off his gloves and lets them fall carelessly to the ground. And then he does what he’s wanted to do for months and curls his hand around Byleth’s, making her tighten her grip on his cravat. “And I’ve thought about it, too.”

Her eyes lift from their joined hands to his face. “You have?”

He can feel her pulse under his fingertips. “Yes. I want you to touch me. I want… you.”

With parted lips, Byleth steps even closer and Claude drops his hand from hers to let her undo his cravat and then pull his jacket off his shoulders. The whole time he stays perfectly still, but when her hands slide against his neck, he can’t help but shiver at the pleasant shock it sends through his entire body.

“Okay?” Byleth whispers with a wide-eyed expression.

“Yes,” he replies, voice hoarse. “ _More_.”

A smile briefly crosses her face before it disappears and is replaced with a serious expression as she pulls his shirt free from his trousers, working fast until his upper half is completely bare.

She sets to exploring then, her brows furrowed in concentration as she traces her hands down his chest, across his abs and back up to feel his shoulders and arms. Claude’s breath quickens as he tries to understand why something so simple – the soft brush of her calloused fingers across his skin – makes him feel so much.

“Byleth,” he whispers as she touches his throat again – gentle, so gentle, like she's telling him it's safe – and she lets out a long, shuddering breath and moves even closer, so that her chest is brushing against his. The fabric of her dress drags against his skin.

Claude can no longer keep still, and he skims his hands up her arms, letting one rest on her shoulders and tangling the other in her hair, enjoying the silken feel of it. Byleth’s eyes drop closed and she sighs, her breath warm against him. It’s not long before she mirrors his actions, smoothing her fingers across his jaw and up into his own hair, dragging her nails lightly across his scalp.

A quiet, half-moan escapes him, unbidden, and Byleth’s eyes snap open again at the sound, heavy and wanting. Claude leans down just as she stretches up and their lips brush together, soft at first, sending sparks throughout Claude’s body. He slides a hand down her back to hold her closer to him just as her tongue swipes across his lips and he opens his mouth for her.

This time, it’s Byleth who moans, louder than Claude might have expected, making him smile into the kiss as they continue to explore each other, until she pulls away, panting. When she turns her face into his shoulder, he can feel the warmth of her blush, and he presses his cheek to her hair. His heart is racing as he tries to catch his own breath, rubbing one hand up and down her bare arm, greedy to touch her skin, while Byleth appears to be the same with her hands now exploring his back.

When Byleth draws back slightly to look up at him, Claude traces her face with his fingers, brushing back her hair like she’d done to him before, and gently touching her lower lip with his thumb. She lets him, watching his face the entire time, until she nuzzles into his hand when he cups her cheek, her eyes closing slightly.

There are words he could say now, Claude knows. And he’s always been good with his words, both here and in Almyra, but for now he feels no need to fill the comfortable silence between them. Byleth seems to be the same.

It seems like he’s found someone who understands him without the need for words. And he’d like to think he’s gotten pretty good at understanding her, too. There will be time for words later, when they're needed. When this war is won and their new dawn has arrived. 

Byleth’s eyes open again and she smiles up at him, looking happy and satisfied. She presses a kiss to his chest before reaching up to kiss his lips again, and they stay like that for a long time, exchanging kisses and breaths and smiles.

The moonlight streams in the tall windows of Byleth’s suite, and for the first time in a long time, Claude feels content.

**Author's Note:**

> (Alexa play Cascada [Everytime We Touch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4G6QDNC4jPs))
> 
> Happy birthday to the wonderful [Maddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddy02/)! She is a wonderful person who writes amazing fics that you should go check out. Thank you Maddy, for being my friend and for being so lovely. 💕


End file.
